


Closure

by encore



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, M/M, Memory Loss, Possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/encore/pseuds/encore
Summary: Local gaming star Yugi has a new attachment in the form of an amnesiac ghost that's leaving his head a bit dizzy lately; Ryou is a mortician-slash-spirit medium that specializes in helping souls move on. Well - most souls, anyway; Honda is a mechanic that wants his friends to love his new boyfriend as much as he does.Atem just wants his fucking memories back.





	Closure

**Author's Note:**

> overall content warnings for: Bakura Being Bakura, frank discussions of death, dying, etc. if anything i feel needs a warning pops up later i'll mark it in the note at the start of the chapter. adding tags to the fic as i go

                When Yugi wakes up on the hard ground with something sticky coating the left side of his face and an arm that is completely numb he thinks, _well, at least I'm alive_.

 

                The spots in his vision fade slowly as he gives himself time to adjust to the new situation and gradual return of perception. He's in the shade of a tree and all around him is high grass, dry and yellow and all too susceptible to catching fire. A careful wiggling assessment of his limbs proves nothing's broken, so he slides the arm that had gone numb under his weight free and pushes himself into a sitting position. The stickiness on his face proves to be blood. It flakes off easily and gets stuck under his chewed to hell nails. A nosebleed, nothing more, and he allows himself to slump against the tree in relief. The pins and needles running up his arm slow as he carefully moves it in circles.

 

                He couldn't remember what day it was. The last thing he remembered was walking home from Anzu's apartment, but that could have been anywhere between a few hours to a few days ago.

               

                Staying under this tree wouldn't help him figure anything out in the long run, so after a jerky attempt at standing without his vision tunneling, he sets out to find his way back home. Or to a gas station so he could appease his aching bladder and maybe get some directions.

 

                His shadow quivers wildly beneath him when he stirs. Being concealed in the shade makes it impossible to separate his own from the tree's, so Yugi doesn't notice. It stills by the time he stands, and when he steps out into the full light of the sun to begin his journey, it matches him step for step.

 

…

 

                Ryou is hunched over a dead man when his phone begins to beep furiously within the pocket of his coat. His reflexive flinch almost drives the brush in his hand through the deceased’s eye. He could have sworn he turned it off earlier.

 

                "A little help?" He asks to the room at large, empty of any other living person besides himself.

 

                The hand of the corpse - male, fourty-five, cause of death a heart attack, and patiently waiting to be finished primped up for his open-casket funeral tomorrow – shoots up jerkily and Ryou pales. It's level to his pocket and reaches in clumsily, stiff limb too set by the embalming process to bend much, yet still somehow managing to pull out the phone and jam a puffy finger twice at the screen before dropping back down lifelessly. Ryou glares at it and makes a harsh exhale of breath before turning his attention back to the delicate process before him.

 

                "Ryou? Hey! Uh, it's- Honda. You there?"

 

                “Of course,” He tries to keep his tone from coming off too clipped. It was easier to do now that he knew it was Honda. His shoulders relax a little. “Do you need something? I’m a bit busy.” Ryou really didn’t have that much left to finish his work, he just hated being interrupted.

 

                "Oh, sorry." For his part, Honda manages to sound abashed enough. "I was just checking to make sure you didn't need a ride later."

 

                Ryou rolls his shoulders and jerks his head back to try and keep some of the hair that’s escaped his high ponytail from falling in to his eyes. His mind goes blank for a moment. A ride. “For…?”

 

                Honda pauses. “For lunch.”

 

                “Oh!” Oh! “Of course, yes!” Fuck. _Fuck_.

 

                “You forgot.” Not a question. Honda doesn’t sound angry, more resigned, but Ryou rushes to answer anyway. The resignation is kind of worse than getting snapped at.

 

                “N-no, of cour-, we-, well,” Ryou cuts himself off, ducking his head down in admonishment. “….Yeah,” he admits quietly before he lets a rushed explanation spill out, steadily rising in pitch and volume. “But not because I’m not excited! I am! I’m so happy you want me to meet your friends! I’m-”

 

                Honda laughs and cuts him off with a fond, “You’re such a scatterbrain.” Ryou relaxes his shoulders like a puppet being cut from its strings. His head would have hit the table if there wasn’t a body covering it, so he hovers hunched over instead. The family had picked out a very soft white kimono for the body and with the man’s weight it had taken Ryou a lot of effort to wrap him up and smooth out the lines on his bulbous belly. He’d have to look over him again after he finished the make up to make sure nothing had wrinkled with his arm movements.

 

                “…I did write it down…” He mumbles, thinking of the planner his coworkers had finally succeeded in needling him to keeping. He’d marked the day with ‘ _Lunch_ ’ beside a fat sharpie’d heart and put a colorful sticky note on the top of the page as a bookmark to remind himself. Right now, it was likely sitting uselessly on his desk at home under a game manual.

 

                “Well, that’s why I called to check.” Oh, Ryou is so endlessly grateful for Honda’s patience.

 

                “Yes, if you could…” Ryou smiles. “Lunch, lunch, I should be off in an hour. Taking a half day.”

 

                “I know.” Right. They planned this. Weeks ago. Ryou picks at his gloves, already mentally moving through meal choices and how much that gross beer Honda loved that _I will not buy for you again, who got you in to American beers of all things,_ cost. Honda loved simple and domestic evenings. Ryou could do simple and domestic.

 

                “Okay,” Ryou knows his assets. Would his old gym shorts under an apron be too much? He could sort it out later. He’ll move his planner to somewhere more front and center.

 

                “Okay.” Honda sounds smile-y again. “I’ll…leave you to work then. See you later, babe.”

 

                “Yeah, thanks, I’ll see you,” Ryou beams. “Babe.”

 

                “That was disgusting.” A new voice snaps the second his phone goes dark. Ryou ignores it, going back to work and humming happily. Just smoothing the foundation and pressing a few wrinkles then he would be free for lunch. A translucent figure forms beside him, leaning into his space and radiating annoyance. “No, really, I could puke.”

 

                “You do that.” Ryou chirps.

 

                “Ugh.” Bakura leans back until he’s floating in a more reclined position, arms crossed.

 

…

 

                When Sora comes in she takes one look at the time and immediately shoos Ryou away so she can take over putting things away. “You always stay late, go ahead and take off. I’ll finish this up.”

               

                Ryou smiles sheepishly, pushing down the used plastic sheeting in the trash bin with his foot and handing her the folder with instructions for arranging the hall for the memorial. “Thank you, thank you. I’ve already disinfected everything. The new wreaths-”

 

                She waves her hand. “I’ve got this. Just go.”

 

                Ryou rushes in to the parlor’s front bathroom and is quietly grateful no one else is inside before he stops in front of a relatively clean mirror and starts petting at his own hair.

 

                “How do I look?” Ryou pauses, tips his chin to one side then the other. He dips forward and knits his fingers near his scalp, pulling quickly as he tries to fluff his hair out and fix the stray tangles that have popped up during his day, twisting his head and shuffling his feet as he preens. “Okay? Presentable?”

 

                “You look terrible,” Bakura deadpans. “You should just go home and ditch the fucker.”

 

                “Bakura,” Ryou breathes. “Please-”

 

                “You look _fine_.” He snaps, moving in front of the mirror. It’s a weird sight, the ghost that looks so much like him framing his reflection like a layered photograph, scowling dangerously. “You should seriously consider ditching him, though.”

 

                “You never like my boyfriends.” Ryou stops fussing with his hair to pull at the bottom of his shirt. The button up is a bit wrinkled; too many instances of being slept in and too little patience for ironing. “Honda’s nice.”

 

                “And boring.”

 

                “He’s nice,” Ryou repeats. “He’s funny, and sweet, and he doesn’t trash my kitchen at two in the morning because he wants attention.”

 

                Bakura sniffs. “Give him a medal.”

 

                “I’ll certainly give him something,” Ryou counters just to laugh at the way Bakura’s nose scrunches up. His phone beeps once in his pocket so he takes one more swipe over his shirt before exiting the bathroom and going out front to find Honda.

**Author's Note:**

> ryou has his head in the clouds and legs for dayyyys  
> next chapter will be more yugi-atem heavy
> 
> It's traditional for morticians to clothe the dead the way you would the living, but less strictly traditional funeral homes go for cutting the back of the garments - though avoiding the necklines- to slide the bodies into them easier (it saves time and is just more efficient). I figured Ryou would be more for tradition, and kimonos probably wouldn't be as tricky to get a corpse in to than say, jeans or tailored suits. Most corpses don't require a lot of makeup outside of foundation - the goal is to just make them appear as they did alive for the viewing though it's generally up to the family how everything is to be presented.
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter: Ryou meets the Yugi-gang, Bakura meets Yami, and Yami finally gets to talk to Yugi.


End file.
